Crop dusters wonder if young flyers will fill their aging ranks

October 26, 2007

BLUE EARTH, Minn. (AP) - Rows of golden cornstalks zoomed by as Tim Steier skimmed his single-engine plane overhead at 100 miles per hour, wheels nearly touching the corn and black earth easily visible from the cramped cockpit. With nary a change in speed, Steier deftly pulled the 1,300-pound Piper up and over powerlines, clearing them by more than 25 feet before plunging back toward earth. He tilted the plane 45 degrees to the ground and pulled a U-turn at the end of the field. Strapped in by a simple lap belt, Steier was taking a demonstration run, showing off a typical flight for aerial application, commonly known as crop dusting. Crop dusting jobs follow a cycle: planting, growth and harvest. And as they bide their time before next year's crop, those who do the work are also taking a hard look at their own industry's life cycle as the median age of pilots creeps toward retirement age. Will there be a fresh crop of pilots to fill their fast-emptying ranks? ''Our industry is probably like all of agriculture: We're aging,'' said Steier, who runs an aerial application business in Blue Earth, about 110 miles south of the Twin Cities. ''We desperately need new faces,'' Steier said. According to pilots, the dearth of younger aviators can be attributed to several factors: fear of competition caused some in the industry to refrain from training novices; the cost of insuring a plane flown by inexperienced pilots can be prohibitive; and interest in aviation overall dropped after a boom decades ago. Today, the average age of crop dusters is in the 50s or 60s, said representatives from the national and local chapters of the National Agricultural Aviation Association. There are about 3,200 of them nationwide, said NAAA executive director Andrew Moore, and they average about a quarter-century of experience. Minnesota has about 300 aerial application pilots, said Eric Klindt, director of the NAAA's Minnesota chapter. Now they're looking for ways to revive interest. Among those who do the work, the term ''aerial application'' is preferred over ''crop dusting.'' Among other reasons, most current applications are in liquid form. Pilots said the industry won't disappear anytime soon given world food demand, providing there are people to fly. Steier, 53, got his start at age 14 ''flagging'' for his uncle Elmer, who opened an aerial application business in 1954 in Whittemore, Iowa. Steier's job was to stand in the field, holding a flag that indicated the areas that needed spraying. ''I just wanted to be around those machines,'' Steier said. Steier began flight lessons at 16. He eventually started his own business in Iowa and later moved to Minnesota. NAAA president Rod Thomas, 53, a farmboy by birth, got his start by buying a helicopter with his brother, hiring a flight instructor and teaching himself the ropes. That wouldn't happen today. ''It's really hard for a young person to dive into this,'' said Michael Vivion, head of the aviation program at the University of Minnesota, Crookston. Environmental regulations and standards are stricter, insurance is expensive, start-up costs are high and income can vary greatly. Steier said a pilot's annual earnings can range from about $15,000 to $100,000, depending on experience and the uncontrollable variable that dictates when and where pilots can fly - Mother Nature. To supplement his income, Steier also grows corn and soybean, raises hogs and manages the Blue Earth Municipal Airport near the Iowa border. Those flying now have to be cautiously aggressive about recruiting the next generation of crop dusters because it's a nice market that won't generate a glut of job openings. Those who learn the work can also sow seed, fight wildfires and spray for non-agricultural purposes, such as mosquito control. The NAAA is trying to get the veterans to mentor younger pilots. Five out of the 50 or so aviation students on the university's Crookston campus are pursuing a four-year agriculture aviation degrees that are geared toward aerial application, Vivion said. ''We don't want to churn out hundreds of people with degrees in these programs, because there aren't hundreds of jobs,'' he said. At 32, Klindt is among the industry's younger pilots. Like many of his predecessors, he got his start by working for a farmer, loading planes with chemicals and fueling them. ''It's hard work and very long hours,'' he said. There are dangers, too. Crop dusters fly about 140 mph from 4 to 15 inches above the ground, depending on the crop, while watching for obstacles including powerlines, cell phone towers, changing terrain and trees. Some call it aerial ballet. ''Some people think I'm crazy, but it's no more dangerous than driving down a highway,'' Klindt said. ''Everything's dangerous. When you do the training ... flying is second nature.'' For Steier, flying is no different than driving. He doesn't plan on quitting anytime soon. Perhaps he'll follow his uncle's lead, who at 76 still takes jobs in Iowa, and when the time comes to retire, maybe he'll get to pass the business along to his 26-year-old son. ''We get to see the world in a way few do,'' Steier said. ''Just the sunrises and sunsets are astonishing.''